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The title of this chapter was taken from the truly magnificent poem Submergence, by D. H. Lawrence.
Falling Stars and Bright Sunlight
The Place Where a Star Used to Be
The dawn three weeks after their return brought a ship carrying Errol Gargalen to Starfall. "Doran sent me to oversee the preparation of the Prince's Pass," he said briefly by the way of explaining. "He's careful of the way Anders Yronwood is organizing things there."
"Yronwood might try something?" Arel asked sharply. "Is that what you're saying?"
"I'm sure it isn't," Shanai said but of course, she'd like for it not to be so. She was Allyrion of Godsgrace, her brother would soon wed Lord Yronwood's daughter. Ashara was far more skeptical.
"It isn't," Errol confirmed, to her surprise. "Not… exactly. But one can never be too cautious, now, can they? The Yronwoods' support for forced hostile to Sunspear has not been a secret through years. Anyway, Larra also wants to consult me."
"Doesn't she have a new husband to consult with?"
The edge in Shanai's voice clearly surprised Errol who looked from Arel to Ashara but neither of them was keen to explain.
"She still asked Doran for someone." He paused. "I am thinking of leaving after noon, if you would have me until then."
"Of course we will," Lady Dayne said, the perfect hostess once again. She even smiled and looked sincere. Maybe she was. Generally, people liked Errol Gargalen. He had inherited all of Mikkel's silver handsomeness and none of his outer cold. Highly capable yet always easily approachable and smiling. Mikkel could still turn a head at every crowd, always had, but his son could warm a heart. He did warm the hearts of everyone around him. Startled, Ashara realized for the first time just how similar he looked to Rhaegar when he was pale and tense. The difference in their expression had hid the resemblance between them. Rhaegar's melancholy appealed to many but Ashara had always been drawn to warmth.
And yet he now lacked it. Ashara shivered, chilled by a sudden fear. What would happen? She well knew that while Rhaegar read of prophecies, Errol lived them. The last time he had appeared out of the blue looking like this had been on Arel's fifteenth nameday… She swallowed. She would not think of that night.
"Do you… know something?" she finally asked. "Errol, have you seen? Have you dreamed? You look…"
He shook his head. "No," he said, too quickly. "I had to send Alynna unexpectedly to Braavos, that's all."
The other three stared at him. "Send her to Essos?" Arel echoed. "Why?"
"My sister isn't… well. The problem is, my mother is ill and Naeryn cannot really leave, with Aunt Aelinor so close to her time… Lanore asked that someone goes. And my brothers and I are needed here, in Dorne, just in case Baratheon somehow succeeds in getting the entire Stormlands behind him."
Everyone said a silent thanks to the Seven for Robert Baratheon's wayward ways that had disaffected many of his bannermen. If he had the full strength of the Stormlands behind him, he could have spared some for Dorne and still have enough left to head straight for King's Landing.
Behind them, the servants started laying the morning meal out. Usually, they preferred breaking their fast here, on the terrace overlooking the sea. It was glorious at dawn and early morning, the golden head of the sun promising warmth and hope, spreading the fabric of hope over the small ripples of the waves. Ashara smelled milk and clenched her throat involuntarily. In the months after her miscarriage, milk had been one of the very few nourishments she could tolerate. She never wanted to drink it again.
"Is she well?" she asked about Errol's sister whom she hadn't seen in many years.
He shrugged. "She has wed the new Sealord," he announced, to their stunned gasps. The man had been all but caused the death of the old Sealord, for the Mother's sake! It felt sinister that he'd wed his rival's widow.
But of course, it made sense. The Sealord was elected, not someone who inherited. And for someone who would rather think only of himself than having to advance his family's future, there was no better wife than the old Sealord's widow. Lanore the Barren.
Shanai bit her lip, looking crushed. Arel squeezed her hand reassuringly.
"Aerys demanded that we squash the Stormlords for him," Errol announced, clearly unwilling to discuss his sister further but unable to stand his concern alone. "The ravens from King's Landing arrive every day… or two times a day."
"And?" Ashara asked.
He barked out a laugh. "What do you think? That we're fighting his war just for the joy of having dead men of our own and not even a thanks, let alone a queen on the Iron Throne?"
Shanai's goblet thumped on the floor, staining her ivory gown with blood. Wine, of course, not blood, but that was how the red suddenly looked to Ashara. The red of war. The red of death.
"Has the Prince made his intentions about Princess Elia clear?"
"He still hasn't made his location clear," Errol replied. "We're still stuck in the same position we were before. We'll fight for him if need be, of course. Which is why I have to make sure that both passes are in the condition Doran wants them to be and there would be no surprises from our stormy neighbours."
Shanai who looked surprised by her own reaction from moments ago sharply took a breath. "I think we'll have a stormy surprise anyway," she said.
The other three followed her eyes to the horizon. The sky over the sea was, all of a sudden, no longer rose and gold. Instead, it burned like a flame licking earth coated with tar.
"Errol," Arel said. "I think you'd better stay here for the day."
His friend nodded and turned his attention to the upcoming storm. The heavenly fire had started fading to pale grey starkness with frightening swiftness.
"The storm is coming," he finally said. And then, without pausing, "The King is getting frantically scared for his lineage and crown. After seizing and killing Brandon Stark for threatening his wayward son, it's us who are under his suspicion now…"
Ashara just felt herself going white. What had the madman come up with now?
"Aemon is his uncle, King Aegon's son," Errol said, almost inaudibly. "It looks like he's gotten it into his head – or someone has fed him the idea, it doesn't matter – that we'll try to obliterate him and his to place Uncle Aemon and his line on the throne. This way, we'll have both a Dornish queen on the throne and heirs whose loyalty would be to Dorne, first of all. More than what we could ever hope with Elia." Now, he paused. His next words came out reluctantly. "I'm afraid we didn't help either, Alynna and I. He has remembered how Alynna was supposed to wed Rhaegar before I snatched her away – and that Doran shielded us against the entire family's anger. It is now being taken as a mark for disrespect for the Iron Throne."
There was no use in reminding him that it had been just that, love or not. And he was right. Rhaegar had wed Elia, right? She had given him a healthy heir reasonably soon after the marriage. Why stir the past now, nine years later?
Because of madness.
"There is this rumour being fanned," Errol finally spoke out. "That the child is not really Aunt Aelinor's. That at this age and having not had a child in more than ten years, it is only an attempt to create the illusion of a stable succession for our vile plans."
That sounded horrifyingly plausible. After all, one of the reasons that gathered Aegon the Unlikely the almost universal support that he needed had been his almost grown sons. And Aelinor was indeed quite old for giving birth.
No one was too surprised. That was how politics worked. But Shanai's eyes welled up anyway. She would have given everything to be in Aelinor's place, abounding rumours and all, for a living child. The thought that even a woman this old was able to give birth but she was not was torturous. Ashara wanted to touch her hand but Shanai was too proud to accept such a thing – it would only humiliate her. Unless it came from Arel, maybe, but he didn't do it.
"The war will reach Dorne," Ashara finally said. "No matter whether we want it."
Where was Rhaegar? Where was Arthur, for the Maiden's sake? There was a war and they were not coming back?
No, not the Maiden. Pain burned in her womb, all the way through her heart. She had lost the right to pray to the Maiden. Tears stung her eyes. She fell silent.
"Looks like there won't be a storm, after all," Arel finally said and indeed, the dome above had started turning its usual shade of shimmering blue rimmed with pale white lace. But the sea was rising. Rippling waves turned to fierce mountains of water ridden by crested grey foam. Ashara shivered. What was going on? This year had been a very strange one where weather was concerned. The promised spring had not come and now this.
Errol also looked away, his expression such that once again, she wondered what he had seen. Abruptly, he rose and left. Cold settled over Starfall and from the terrace, Ashara heard various animals whining and bleating as they, too, expressed their displeasure at nature's whims.
She rose and went to her chambers to put something else on. She took a shawl for Shanai as well and headed back to give it to her. Her goodsister was fascinated with every change in the sea and would likely not wish to go back for a while. Ashara had to admit that it was indeed beautiful.
But as Ashara neared the door of the terrace, she could hear words that told her she'd better stay away. "That was a good performance," Arel was saying. "If we lose everything in the war, you can join any mummer show you want. They'll be fighting over you, in fact. I am very relieved that you won't starve."
"I have no idea what you're talking about," she shot back.
"Your ridiculous ire towards Larra, that's what I'm talking about! She's newlywed. Would you please let her try and build a life for herself without embroiling her in our own conflicts?"
Ashara could see Shanai's blood pulsing up the vein on her left temple. "Isn't your mistress, or former mistress, or whatever a part of our conflicts already?"
"No, she isn't," Arel said, forcefully. "When are you going to accept that if it wasn't her, it would have been someone else? I could not live in that farce of living together that you're still enforcing at me. But you're excellent at farces, aren't you? Making all those tormented faces in front of Errol, as if you care…"
"I do! I do care!"
"Then, you're showing it in a very peculiar way, my lady," he snapped.
No, Ashara thought. Not peculiar at all. She could understand Shanai's love – and her rejection of him as well. But he couldn't. Of course he couldn't. He was a man, after all.
"First, you don't want me, then you bristle when I find someone else, then you still want me after all but not in your bed and life, actually… What do you want, Shanai? I am not your trained dog, you know!"
"I want a babe!" she cried out. "I want what every other woman has!"
"Well, we won't get one if you keep pushing me out of your bed, you know! To the best of my knowledge, it's a part of having a babe that hasn't been a part of our life in what, two years? Or was it three?"
"Why are you being so cruel!" she cried.
"And you think you aren't? Let's be clear, Shanai: I am fed up with your constant promises and your wiggling out of them. I am fed up with your attempts to turn Starfall into a tomb! And I am certainly fed up with your insistence to bring Larra into all of this. She isn't the core of our problems and she didn't seek me out. I went to her."
For a moment, they stared at each other, both pale and jaded, no one willing to wield. Behind them, the mountains of the Summer Sea kept roaring their displeasure.
"Do you love her?" Shanai finally asked.
His face softened a little. "No, Shanai, it's you that I love."
"Then why?"
"You know why."
She sighed and looked down. Then, she looked up at him. "Let's try again, Arel. I know she gave you something that you needed. But she will not do it anymore. And you still need it. I was able to fulfill this need, once. Give me a chance to do it again. Let me be your true star once again. I can do it, I know I can."
"I've heard this before."
Shanai didn't answer immediately. Ashara almost yelled in surprise at seeing the huge mass of water splashing well beyond its usual boundaries, well beyond the lines thousands of years of tides had left in the rocks on which Starfall rose. Droplets of salt water started showering like rain, splashing the terrace and reaching Ashara inside. Arel and Shanai's faces were wet in mere moments, yet neither of them moved.
"We'll see," he finally said. To Ashara, his voice sounded as casual and reluctant as before but Shanai must have heard something different because her face became radiant with joy. She reached and squeezed his hand. He squeezed back.
"It'll be different this time," she promised. "You'll see. And now, let's get inside before we get all wet."
"I thought we were already," Arel muttered but he was smiling.
Shanai entered the room like a whirlwind of energy, grabbed Ashara by the hands and kissed her soundly on both cheeks. "Come on," she urged. "We have to take care of the castle in this weird weather. No doubt many of the servants are losing their heads, thinking that the ocean will carry us all away."
"I think so," Ashara replied following her out of the room, into the hall and towards the staircase.
It all happened in less than a minute: Shanai's wet shoe slipped on the freshly polished stairs that had been bared of their rugs for the day of washing and the servant maids still hadn't taken the clean ones out. Instinctively, she grasped the railing but it slid out of her damp hand; with a terrifying shriek, Lady Dayne fell all the long way to the first floor, her head hitting every step, before her husband and goodsister's widened eyes as the Summer Sea roared, spilling over all manmade barriers to its ire and bathing Dorne into the rage of an element that held no storm and no lightening, just blind rage that turned men into mere pawns of its very power.
